


Feeling Better

by TabithaJean



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Post-Episode: s02e08 One Breath, pre-episode: s02e09 Firewalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27545512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TabithaJean/pseuds/TabithaJean
Summary: During her recovery between One Breath and Firewalker, Mulder takes Scully home after a meeting to determine her return to work. She is tired and working on getting better, and she has a request.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	Feeling Better

‘Feeling better?’ Mulder asks. She considers: her lips tingle with fresh lime and chilli, and the food in her stomach acts like bags in a tent, anchoring her to the ground. Her vision has lost that Monet-quality – shapes are one more definite – and even though her mind is still foggy, it has at least stopped spinning. She rolls her head towards him as if connected to the headrest by tracks.

‘Feeling better,’ Scully confirms, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. The car smells of onions. He winds down his window to throw away the trash, and she imagines the cold air is a troupe of tiny ballerinas running across her cheeks, rousing her from soporific stillness.

‘Let’s get you home, then,’ he says, and she nods. The afternoon light is in its final crescendo, cold and strong before its sudden, upcoming descent behind the buildings. It feels naughty to be out like this in the middle of the day. It feels like their absence will be noted, another black mark against them for playing hooky from work. She wants to giggle behind her hands. She has the urge to buy cigarettes and open a bottle of whisky at 2pm.

The reality is that she’s not playing hooky but is working through her re-entry into life, living in a twilight between the hospital discharge and returning to work. Her largest daily goal is completing her physio sessions without the urge to vomit. It’s one thing to learn about muscle atrophy on an intellectual level, and quite another to know it so intimately that the mere sight of a resistance band results in a churning of stomach and weakening of legs. 

She had met with Skinner and the occupational health team earlier to discuss a potential return date. How brightly she had shone, how proud she’d been of her straight back and steady voice. She was as golden and brittle as a Fall leaf, only to crumple once the door closed behind her. So much energy had gone into attending the meeting unassisted that she had completely underestimated its mental toll. Hand leaning against the wall, she saw him emerge from the elevator. The slight stoop of the shoulder, the easy confidence with which he occupies space. His hair is shorter these days, but she would recognise him anywhere: their symbiosis hasn’t changed during its brief spell of dormancy.

‘I thought you could use a ride home,’ Mulder had said, and she smiled with unabashed gratitude, trying not to lean too heavily on his arm as they left. Melissa had warned her about Mulder during one of those early days when Scully couldn’t bring herself to stay out of bed for longer than an hour, but had gobbled up information as she tried unsuccessfully to own the missing time. _You didn’t see him, Dana,_ she had said, _he had nowhere to put all his rage. I think he would have seriously hurt himself. You need to be careful because his heart is so close to the surface that it will get trampled on._ Scully can’t reconcile the Mulder that Missy described, vengeful and panicked, with the calm, empathetic partner she knows. Passion and a tendency to jump straight in, yes, but not the reckless disregard for personal safety that Missy claims to have seen.

She looks at him as he drives, his steady hands, solid eyes. When the morning’s efforts had proven too much and she had been on the verge of fainting not one hour earlier, he immediately pulled over and stroked her back as she put her head between her legs. He’d bought her Mexican food and told her stories about vampires while she grounded herself once more. All very normal responses if your companion is about to lose consciousness, but she chooses to read deeper and see there his careful passion for life.

‘You know, they offered me a transfer back to the X-Files,’ Scully says suddenly. Mulder doesn’t look away from the road, but his thumb twitches.

‘Oh yeah?’

‘They also offered me my old teaching role,’ she adds, trying to keep her voice light.

‘What do you think you’ll do?’ He asks, and she pauses. His thumb starts to tap the steering wheel in frantic rhythm. ‘You know, Scully, teaching might not be such a bad idea.’

‘I’d like to return to the X Files.’

In the ensuing silence she imagines him saying no. She is rounder, heavier, as she tries to vanquish her fears of floating away in the middle of the night through food and just that little bit more alcohol than she is used to. She’s still waking up from the coma: colours are too bright, and her instincts are dulled. He might consider her a liability. To her horror, she blinks away tears and stares out of the window as she worries yet another choice is about to be stolen from her.

‘Scully…’ he says quietly. ‘You should consider it a little more. Look at what you’ve been through.’

‘Mulder, I need to know what happened. Do you think those answers lie in Quantico?’ She takes a deep breath. ‘It happened to _me._ I need to find out why.’

‘I do too. You know I would love to have you back. You’re the only partner has the foresight to bring snacks and sandwiches to a stakeout.’ The air lightens as Scully huffs a laugh. ‘Just promise me you’ll think on it a while. Talk it over with Melissa. If something were to happen…’

‘Nothing’s going to happen,’ she says resolutely.

‘Well, ok then,’ Mulder says slowly. ‘I guess I’d better make some more room in the office.’

Scully exhales slowly. Drained, she rubs away the lines in her forehead. She can’t wait to climb into bed for a nap. The city flashes past in a blur. She tries to note the details, a billboard slogan or a mother pushing a stroller, but they so quickly merge into a swirl of colours as they rush past. Finally, Scully relaxes her fingers and lets her eyes gaze lose focus as the tension of the morning unspools within her.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a suspicion that this could be better. I don't have any time to write these days and it's getting me down. I would love to have time to edit this more, but such is life!


End file.
